


A case of worried brothers, mad lovers and flourishing relationships

by blackcrystaly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Protective!Sherlock, Romance, Sherlock cares for Mycroft, betaed!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/pseuds/blackcrystaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock realizes that the detective inspector is in love with his brother Mycroft. From that point on there would be as lot of talks, some reminiscing and several revelations.<br/>Also there is a retelling of the Empty House, somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A case of worried brothers, mad lovers and flourishing relationships

**Author's Note:**

> It has been betaed! Yayyyy  
> Leah_Ester was the miracle worker, so all the credit for being this amazing beta goes to her!!! Any remaining mistake is of course my own!  
> Not sure the boys are really in character... but I tried!

 

"You want Mycroft!" Sherlock exclaimed with his usual perception. But there was more in his voice; awe and a little worry. He focused his gaze on the Detective Inspector, taking him apart with his eyes.

The DI turned around. Leaving his quite talk with a new officer he looked at the consulting detective who was completely ignoring the corpse in front of him.

" _Sherlock!_ " John put his right hand on the brunette's shoulder as if to stop him. He was an army man, after all. He knew how difficult being outed in public could be and how awful the repercussions.

"But he is!" The man insisted, now turning his gaze to the blond as if to convey his thoughts to him.

"Sherlock, remember our talk about how just because you deduced something you don't have to share it with the world?" Watson went on softly, as if trying to make his words less harsh.

"But I can tell you…" He responded, dropping his voice too, as if to protect his, _their_ , intimacy.

Watson always wanted to hear him voice his observations. He’d always praise Sherlock for them, telling him he was “brilliant”, that it was “wonderful”. And sometimes, when he got something wrong, when he voiced inconvenient, _insensitive_ , things to utterly unimportant people, John would also tell him that it was “a bit not good”. Except once, when it had been a lot not good, and it ended up with him being forced to sleep on the sofa until he had finally told John he had apologized to the offended person, and shown him the text and the email he had sent on the matter. The blond had kissed him passionately, told him he was an idiot and taken him to bed at last.

The Consulting Detective had told the soldier later that he still didn’t understand why telling the young man that his dad was a sick person who enjoyed killing his mistresses and that he should stay away from women since he so obviously wanted to follow in his old man’s footsteps had been a bad thing to do. But since he didn’t want to be forced to stay away from their bed or make John leave and live with Lestrade for any length of time… again, he would try not to be so forward with future murderers.

Watson had laughed, hard, at that reasoning, hugged his beautiful lover and told him to go to sleep. He obeyed without protesting, much…

"Of course you can tell me! And I'll want to know how in the hell you reached that conclusion since your brother is nowhere to be seen and Greg hasn’t said a word about him, like ever, but here and now, it's a bit not good," he said the last part with his sternest voice.

Lestrade’s heart was going two thousand miles an hour since the younger one had spoken. Of course he was right; the bastard usually was spot on. But they were on the street. At least five CCTV cameras were nearby and he really, really didn’t want the older Holmes finding out about his attraction to him, much less through his bothersome brother.

He was somewhat grateful to the former soldier for speaking up and forcing the mad genius to shut up, or at least to lower his voice. He watched them interact from a safe distance, not daring to approach and be subjected to any more of the brunette’s deductions. He couldn’t help but still be amazed at how much the doctor had changed the mostly insufferable brat that was the younger Holmes.

The taller man just nodded to his partner and went back to the murder victim still lying on the floor. Meanwhile, Doctor Watson walked over to the NSY detective.

"I'm sorry, Greg. You know how he gets when he deduces something. I try to stop him but sometimes I'm just not quick enough. Hope this doesn't affect you much, you know, back at the station..." He didn't know how to really address the issue but he had to try for the sake of their friendship. "There weren’t that many officers who could have heard but still..."

"Don't worry, John. After the divorce I kind of came out. I don't have a career to worry much about since I'm working with Sherlock and you know it would be terribly bad publicity if they sacked me for it." He was painfully sincere.

*****

His superiors had made it crystal clear to him that the reason he wouldn't be promoted was because he was all too happy to call the consulting detective. And to aid and abet him when he did _little things_ like take evidence to his home and chase suspects on his own, usually handing them over with bullet wounds. And, on one memorable occasion, with so many broken bones the chap had to undergo seven, and counting, operations to be able to move and look human again. The man had been taken to the nearest A &E his pain making it almost impossible for him to hear the officers telling him he was under arrest.

The only explanation Greg had gotten, once they were back at the station, was given by the tall brunette who had looked at him with the coldest eyes he had ever seen:

" _He hurt John_." That alone deserved capital punishment, according to Sherlock. But he understood that he couldn't take measures to ensure that because then the former soldier, who was presently squeezing his arms as if trying to reassure the other that he was there, relatively okay and at his side, would be upset with him. So he did the next best thing; broke almost every bone in the worm's body so he would physically match his nature.

"Sherlock! You can't go breaking every bone in the body of a criminal because he..."

" _He tried to kill John. He had his filthy hands around his neck!_ " The man yelled at him. He was so out of control, it was a terrible sight.

The blond at his side smiled softly and hugged his boyfriend, trying to appease him somewhat.

There and then, Greg knew, without the littlest trace of doubt that if someday something happened to Dr. John H. Watson, they would have the killer he had always feared in the consulting detective.

Every hair on his body rose at the thought of what would occur to them, to all of them, if the day came when the man lost it.

After a deep breath, the detective looked to the smaller one, who had been silent since they had entered his office.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally, worried about the lack of spirit that he was showing. Maybe he was still in shock?

" _Of course he’s not_ ," the younger one said disdainfully. "He was hurt by that lowlife whose pitiful life you seem too worried about."

"I'm worried about having to take you away from him while he’s recovering because you murdered someone idiotic enough to attack Doctor Watson!" he claimed, palms up in show of surrender.

A minute of silence passed between them. All the eyes fixed on the blond.

"I'm alright, Greg. Thanks for asking," he said at last. "I'd really like to go home and have some rest. So if you could just spare us for some hours I'll come back and give you a full statement, okay?"

The tone of voice worried him a little, because it wasn’t like the other to be so... defeated.

Part of him came to understand the situation perfectly. He was used to being the protector, the one who kept Sherlock safe and he felt he had failed his self imposed task.

He knew that he wouldn’t get any more until they had solved this thing between them. So he just nodded and let them walk away with the promise to return.

"Take care. _Both of you._ "

He would never know what had transpired later that day but after a few weeks of walking on eggshells things went pretty much back to normal. Except for the fact that now everyone knew better than to target the older man unless they had suicidal tendencies. He learnt something from that situation too. He would take bullet wounds on suspects from Watson's sure aim than Sherlock's wrath any day. And he was sure the brunette knew it too.

*****

Greg looked back at the blond who was studying him intensely. And just then he realized he had been lost in his reminiscing.

"I didn't know he had cost you so much..." John said softly, but there was no surprise in his voice. After all, it was the same with him trying to keep his job at the hospital.

"No, no. Please, John, _don't_ ," he said kindly but with a firm resolve. "It was _my_ call, okay. I'll take solving the cases and actually helping people to being superintendant any day. So don't feel all guilty about it. I knew from the beginning that it would turn out this way."

He was being partially honest, of course. He hadn't exactly known how much the consulting detective would be of use. How childish, spiteful, aggressive and insulting he would get before the good man presently talking to him, trying to smooth things over, came into his life. And how that would impact him. Eight people asked to be reassigned during the first few weeks of working with Greg and the mad genius. Six tried to punch Sherlock, two had arrested him and one had left the force altogether.

The smaller man smiled knowingly.

"So, it won't be a problem," John said.

"As if I'd endanger him letting me on cases. Seriously, John." The voice came from the doctor’s back, and just then he realized that his lover had moved from his previous position studying the dead body.

The other turned around and squeezed the brunette's right hand. It was an apology, but also a plea not to force him to voice his thoughts that very moment. The taller man let the briefest of the smiles appear on his face before turning his attention to the Detective Inspector, and John braced for the storm.

"You are looking for a man who is very close to the victim, a lover, or a relative… possibly both. He is dark haired and hasn't shaved the last few days to try and mask his identity, so be wary of anyone who is clean faced. He is ambidextrous, but will favor his left hand when you interview him since he stabbed her with his right." The younger one spoke clearly, firing his deductions one after the other. "Boooring. Not even a two." He protested looking disappointedly at the grey haired man.

Lestrade had to refrain from smacking his own face in frustration. _Why was he calling the bastard again?_ He wondered, allowing himself some self pity.

"On the other hand, you lusting after my brother... that's an _eight_ ," he said with an evil, conspiratorial voice. His gaze went from the older police officer to the doctor and back again.

The detective found out, much to his amazement, that the other had spoken in a low almost intimate voice. Only the three of them could hear him.

"Would you please stop that!" Greg said, getting angrier with the man.

It was his damn problem if he had a little... okay, a lot of… _appreciation_ for the fine specimen of a man that was Mycroft Holmes?

He knew it was stupid, and didn’t need the other to point out all the things that made him not good enough. A middle aged police officer with no international contacts and a very pedestrian background would never fall under the love radar of the British Government. The only reason that the older Holmes had contacted him at all was because of his work with the younger one.

So, why couldn't Sherlock just shut his mouth and let his unrequited infatuation alone?

"It's _my brother_ , Detective Inspector," Sherlock’s voice had changed again, and now it was a little darker, dangerous even. It made him think of that fateful night when he had broken every bone of a man almost twice his size because he had _hurt_ John.

The former soldier focused his green eyes on the brunette, a little surprised by how open his partner was being about his real feelings for his powerful older sibling. And then he turned his gaze on the yarder, knowing perfectly well that if he risked the charade the two men had going it was because Greg did much more than just “like” the older Holmes.

He tried to calm the consulting detective, subtly touching his arm but the consulting detective seemed to far gone for that to be effective.

"I know that, Sherlock," he said, while the shift in the air, the tension that had appeared among them, put him on alert immediately. It never bore well when things got this heated. "Look, I know you two don't really get along, but..."

" _Don't be an idiot!_ " the brunette said seriously while John once more tried to calm him down. "What do you want from him?" he asked seriously.

It reminded Lestrade so much of "the talk" the man with the umbrella had given him so many years before that it made him smile. So, the brotherly love was mutual after all, who would have known? Those two definitely played the cards too close to their hearts. But strangely it made him feel a little better. It meant that the younger man was worried for the older one and not opposed to any _closeness_ between Greg and Mycroft. Not that the officer had any hope that would happen, just on principle. Still it was none of Sherlock’s fucking business.

Greg decided he had been extremely patient nonetheless and he wasn’t playing nice for the time being.

"It's none of your business, don't you think?" That was a mistake, he found out, the moment he saw Sherlock's eyes turn thunderous and two hands were taking him by the collar of his coat.

" _Sherlock!_ " The doctor shouted, trying to make him free the police officer while a couple of yarders hurried to separate them by force if need be.

They knew of course there would be no charges on the man, but some of them really wished to take the taller one away in handcuffs and put him in a cell for a while.

The brunette let him go suddenly, and took a step back; finally noticing that everyone was looking at him like he had finally lost his mind. He composed himself and let a mask of disdain and boredom grace his features.

"Let's go, John," he said none too gently while walking away to hail a cab for them.

If there wasn't any pressing matter, like he had just cracked a case or discovered a hot lead, Sherlock had stopped leaving the blond behind. Donovan and Anderson had even remarked that he was well and truly whipped when they noticed after a particularly rough case that he had actually waited until the former soldier finished talking with a would-be murder victim they had just saved. Greg had his own thoughts on the matter. He always suspected that the only reason Sherlock stopped disappearing on the older man was his own fear that John would not come back. That some of the people the former soldier spoke with would convince him to go with them and he would leave the crazy consultant for good.

This would be one of those times Sherlock was made to wait, since Watson turned to speak to Greg. He ignored his boyfriend in favor of, as always, clearing the air, making the apologies and generally cleaning up after the brunette’s mess.

The rest of the police officers went back to their task the moment the brunette walked away. John was finally free to speak to Lestrade without putting his lover and brother-in-law’s secret in danger.

"I'm sorry he got physical like that," the doctor began softly.

Greg made a disregarding gesture, truly conscious it wasn't John's fault in any way and he shouldn't be the one acting all contrite.

“Look, it’s not really my place or anything, but if he got bad like that it’s because you really have feelings for, you know…” He really needed for the detective to understand, but at the same time they were in the street, so he had to be careful too. “The British Government…” The words weren’t so much spoken as mouthed and the older officer just nodded.

If someone understood being in love with a Holmes it had to be the man who had tamed the wildest one. Maybe, he could relax a little and just get it off his chest.

“So, I’m taking a really big risk here…” The blond had to make an effort not to turn around and point at the CCTV cameras to emphasize his words. “But if Sherlock is right, and I’ve yet to see him not being spot on, you should know that _they really don’t hate each other all that much._ ” The last part came as a whisper before the man began to walk to his partner.

The silver haired one took a moment to process all the information and then took out his phone to text the man, because he felt a little stupid shouting at a crime scene something not police related.

**Let’s get a beer tonight. GL**

The answer came almost immediately:

T **he pub @ 8? JW**

**Sure. GL**

Then he put the mobile away, and went back to the open investigation. He had a long day to go.

*****

The detective inspector found himself inexplicably nervous by the time he sat down at the pub’s table. John was already there, waiting for him with a cold beer for each of them and a big smile on his face.

The smug bastard had undoubtedly gotten laid the moment the pair had reached the flat.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked sympathetically. As always Watson was the charming bloke next door. Up until the moment he shot someone to save a mad man’s life.

If he wasn’t already smitten by Mycroft he could have fallen hard for the lovely warrior. And he hoped to God those thoughts never transferred to his face or body because he was pretty sure that if Sherlock ever caught it no one would ever find his body. Cases or no cases.

“Uneventful,” he said quietly, he knew he shouldn’t rush things along, but he really wanted to understand what the hell was going on. “We have someone who matches Sherlock’s profile but we can’t pin anything on him yet. The brother–in-law, if you could believe it.”

Just then he realized that it could very well be translated into the situation they were in. So much for subtlety, but he didn’t get to choose murderers.

“Yes, actually, I can,” the blond man said with a smile on his face. It was a playful smile that let the police officer know that he wasn't bothered in the least by the way things were taking place.

Then he put the bottle to his lips and took a long sip of the drink.

“Let’s cut to the chase, okay?” he said at last knowing full well that they had to do this sooner rather than later, and then he could go back to his lover. And, hopefully, Lestrade could go and try to win the older Holmes over.

“Please!” Greg found himself answering without thinking.

The doctor gave him a look that expressed how well he understood the situation. Then his expression changed and the doctor became deadly serious. And that put the yarder on alert instantly.

“You’ve seen how Mycroft gets over his brother, right? All the worry and the different ways he’s always trying to protect Sherlock?” He paused to let the other nod and make sure Greg was paying attention to his words. “He must have kidnapped you too, right?”

The detective inspector smiled at that. Of course the older Holmes had taken him to an undisclosed warehouse and had pretty much questioned his motives and read his whole life out loud to him. It was one of his fondest memories, all that power, all that knowledge. That sexy man’s attention all turned on him.

*****

“You have to understand, Detective Inspector, that Sherlock will stomp all over you. He’ll insult you, your intelligence, your colleges, your family and friends. He’ll read you and the people close to you as an open book and tell you exactly what he sees for all the world to hear.” The “minor position government officer” had spoken softly to him, as if they were simply discussing the weather. “I _can_ ensure you’ll keep your career, as it is now, if you agree to work with him. Your superiors won’t like it of course, but I’ll deal with the backlash and it'll never touch you.”

He had watched the other, studying his pose. The way his hips were turned to the side while his body rested in line with his grip on the handle of his umbrella, the casual position spoke volumes of his sense of control over the whole situation.

At first he had looked incredulously at the brunette, and then he had laughed, hard. If the younger man he had met a couple of months ago could crack cases with half a look at a badly written report why couldn’t this man in front of him do exactly as he promised?

“O… kay. But, why would you do all that for me? What’s in it for you?” he had asked, not really knowing there and then of the blood bond that tied the men together, but beginning to suspect they were more than acquaintances.

“Oh, I just want to see him happy. And when he is bored he is certainly less than _thriving_.”

“Why do you care?”

“I care, Detective Inspector.” he said, obviously expecting for that to be the end of it.

“Well, that’s not good enough.” To this day, he still didn’t know how he had got the backbone to say _that_ to the British Government itself.

Greg watched the dark eyes of the other get darker. His whole posture changed, ready to act.

“I’m afraid it will have to be, Detective Inspector.”

“I don’t think so.” He had answered, getting mad at the other man. “Look, it’s obvious you want me to help Sherlock, and you say that if I do you can insure I’ll keep my job. But I won’t go into this… whatever it is that you are proposing blindly because _I don’t trust you_.” He stressed the last few words to make sure the message got across.

“But you trust my younger sibling. _I _nteresting__ ,” he had said with that rich tone of his.

The silver haired man opened and closed his mouth once. He couldn’t believe there was another Holmes out there, and this one seemed somewhat more dangerous than the other. This one seemed to be sane, at least.

“You’re his brother?! _He has a brother_ …” He repeated more to himself than to anyone else, and it won him a look from the brunette. One that was terribly akin to the consulting detective's ‘don’t be an idiot’ trademark.

“Whoa.” It was all he could say really.

They stood there, in silence, while Greg processed everything.

“Fine. _F _ine__ , I’ll take you up on your offer. But I won’t be covering up any murders… _for either of you,_ ” he added as an after thought.

The other had smiled, a gesture full of confidence.

“Believe me, Detective Inspector, you wouldn’t need to. _I don’t leave traces_.”

And with that he had turned around and left Greg alone in the building. A moment later a young woman came to pick him up and take him to his home.

During the whole time in the car, and later on, his mind tried to convince him that those parting words weren’t one of the hottest things he had ever heard.

A week ago, when he discovered himself having a wank in the shower while imagining Mycroft Holmes’s mouth around his shaft he knew his pretence marriage was over… and that he was in lust with the older man.

*****

“Of course,” Greg finally replied, chastising himself for the sudden drift his mind had taken.

Once more, John gave him a knowing smiled.

“Well, Sherlock is just as protective of his older brother... minus the random black car and the kidnapping,” he said softly, expecting the other to doubt his word. He had the first time his lover had told him that all the bickering and the insults were just make-believe.

But the officer didn’t do anything of the kind. He just looked at the blond and took another sip of his beer.

“Why all the theatrics, then? It’s not a capital sin to love your brother… unless you _love_ your brother.” The words were meant as a joke, but the thing that got both men laughing hard was the picture of the two Holmeses making out with each other and criticizing the technique the other had used.

After good two minutes of discussing the idea of the two men they were in love with having sex with each other, John decided it was time to get serious again and answer Greg’s question as it was an important one.

“Of course it’s not. But, you know both of them lead dangerous lives. And since Sherlock is the one who lives out here, with the ‘painfully common’ individuals, he is the one who gets to play the ungrateful bastard.” His voice sobered at that. He’d like it better if his boyfriend wasn’t forced to play this dangerous game, but it had been going on long before John even appeared in the consulting detective’s life so he didn't much of a say in it.

“Mycroft is a very powerful man, as you know, given the ‘ _minor government position_ ’ he holds, with lots of enemies ready to use anything they can to destroy him. And you know there are people in high places who would love to destroy Sherlock just because he is the way he is.” Meaning they wanted him dead because of his tendency to meddle in affairs that were not of his concern and not because he was related to the other Holmes. “So, this is what they came up with.” He finished, hoping Greg understood what he _wasn’t_ saying.

“So, basically, they both play a game to _fool the entire world_. And you think I should _really_ think about if I want to get involved with the likes of the British Government.” He summarized with a confident smile.

He wasn’t an idiot, no matter what the consulting detective said.

“In so many words.” John answered.

They both asked for another cold beer, and waited until the waiter had gone to continue.

“Look, Greg, you know I consider you a friend…” he said with a sincerity that touched Lestrade.

“Me too, mate.”

“That’s why I’m telling you all this. Mycroft is a dangerous man, he is possibly the most dangerous you’ll ever meet. Hell. Probably the most dangerous I’ll ever meet…”

“I know,” he interrupted before John could elaborate. It was clear enough to them both. “I’ve known from the moment he took me to that blasted warehouse and acted all high and mighty.”

They both laughed and compared experiences.

“I suspect he is a serial kidnapper. Can you imagine him trying to get alone with Sherlock’s boyfriends before he became… ‘ _him’_ _?_ ” he said, making quotation marks in the air. “And while they were both youngsters?”

Once more, the laughter won them over.

“He kidnapped me the day after Sherlock and I slept together for the first time,” John said suddenly, a little bit happy of being able to tell the story to another living soul.

“He did?” the detective inspector asked not really surprised.

“Yeah…”

*****

They had slept together right after Sherlock had come back to him, the very night of the end of the “Empty Flat Adventure”. Of course he had let that little bit out of his retelling on the blog he still kept writing.

They had gone to NSY were everyone that mattered tried to apologize to Sherlock who made a point of ignoring them, except for Sally. He had looked at her, and said it was okay. Later he would confess to John he had done it because he thought that she was a good officer and he knew one day he would end up working with her as a detective inspector. She had learned her lesson and that was it. They would still insult each other, but the hatred had disappeared. She felt truly guilty over his suicide and never wanted to feel like that again. Especially when she found out that they, all of the yarders, had been used by Moriarty to push him to his “death”.

After they had given their depositions, they had taken a cab and gone back to Baker Street. Sherlock seemed worried at his lack of response. John was simply following him to their flat, not a word said between them.

John had been surprised after he took off the costume of a door to door book seller earlier that day, Had even fainted on him and then woken up and punched him square in the face, leaving a deep purple mark on his cheek.

Then Sherlock had asked Watson to help him to catch the last of Moriarty’s men, the sniper that had the order to kill him. Colonel Sebastian Moran dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s Army. And of course, as every other time he had said there was danger ahead, the former soldier had jumped and was ready to go into action.

They had taken down the man, with the help of Lestrade and two unsuspecting yarders who were young enough not to know Sherlock. Along with turning over the man, he presented all of the evidence he had collected the past months and with that he cleared his name. Then came the apologies, and the repentance.

By now, the adrenaline had run out, and they were alone, like so many times before. But it wasn’t the same, somehow. The air between them wasn’t the comfortable silence they used to share but the electric charged atmosphere of a storm waiting to happen.

They got out of the cab and for once Sherlock stayed behind to pay for their ride. Once inside he was ready to ask something when the force of nature that was John Watson was on him, kissing him brutally.

The brunette surrendered quickly enough, not sure if he wasn’t being rewarded or punished by the other’s action.

“ _You bastard!_ ” Those were the first words out of his mouth once their lips parted. “You _utter, insensitive, bastard!_ ” He yelled again, before taking the taller man by the lapels of his long coat and dragged him to the closer bed.

“You let me think you were dead!” He kept shouting while he managed to get all of his clothes off and tear the other’s off too.

“I thought I’d never get the chance to say how much I love you… you annoying, utter…” He was being kissed now, by a repentant detective who looked at him like a man in the desert looked at water.

“No need to insult my mother and father anymore… I’m here.”

Those words made it, they completely disarmed him. He stood there, unable to move, to do anything anymore.

The younger man moved then, he used one hand to pull the smaller one to his body, then he turned them around so John would be effectively trapped under him.

“Listen to me, now. It was the only way, John. I had to save you. He had a sniper waiting to shoot you if I didn’t comply.”

Those words made the former soldier open his eyes. He had never suspected that Sherlock’s fake death had been a sacrifice. It brought tears to the soldier’s green orbs.

Sherlock kissed his cheeks and then his mouth.

“Let’s not agonize over it. He is dead and I’m alive. Please John… _please_ … Be alive with me.” The words didn’t make much sense until he found out that the detective had never stopped watching over him. The brunette had known about his campaign, the ‘I Believe in Sherlock’ movement. He had being on the look out for any suicidal thoughts John might have had. Both of the Holmes brothers had been taking care of him from the shadows.

“I love you,” he said finally

And that was it. They had made love for the first time.

Their hands had mapped each other’s body with urgency. Their first time had been hurried and none too gently.

After some teasing to John’s neck and nipples the brunette had gone directly to his entrance, retrieving lube from God’s knows where. Sherlock had coated his fingers with it and prepared him hastily.

The blond had first caressed the other's back and later had clawed at it hard, leaving red, angry marks behind.

They had come too quickly for both their tastes, but that’s what second rounds were for.

The next day he had gotten up, kissed Sherlock’s temple while he slept so soundly he didn’t even registered the other’s retreat, contemplated for a second the idea of tying him up to make sure Sherlock would still be there when he came back, discarded it just as quickly and went to dress. Someone had to do the shopping now that they were living together again. Those words had so much force it almost made him cry, but he controlled it… barely.

He made it just a couple steps outside the flat when the well known car of Mycroft stopped at his side. John smiled and climbed in. Of course the older Holmes would know of their reunion, and he suspected the British Government knew of their lovemaking too… but time would tell if he was right.

There was no one inside, which was something of a surprise. He had expected the PA to be in the vehicle.

This time the ride was short. Just a couple of minutes had passed when the engine went dead. John got out of the car and went to the brunette who was looking at him worriedly.

“So you finally _consummated_ your relationship,” he said with the confidence of someone who is well informed.

“You know we did… and I’d appreciate it if you took the cameras out of our bedroom.” He knew better than to ask for them to be removed from the whole flat.

“What are you intentions towards my recently cleared brother, Doctor Watson?” There was something deadly serious in the other man’s words.

The former soldier fixed his gaze on the British Government; he was neither scared nor impressed.

“I’d marry him if he acquiescent to being subjected to such a mundane ritual.” His words were sure and solemn. “But since he is who he is, I’ll simply want to stay with him for the rest of our lives. No more faking deaths if I can help it.”

“Marriage between two people of the same sex isn’t legal in Britain, Doctor.” He spoke softly now, the littlest of smiles appearing on his lips.

“As if you couldn’t make it happen if he wanted to marry me. You would find us a special permit or something like that signed by the Queen and the Prime Minister…” he said half jokingly.

Mycroft smiled, not bothering to deny the other’s words. Not so much because they were true but because this man had become family.

“ _If you ever hurt him…_ ”

“…they won’t find my body.” He finished the threat for the other. “I know, I know,” the blond said with resignation “Now, would you please let me go? I have to go to the shop and get a few necessities and food if your brother is going to be living with me again.”

“Of course he will be living again with you. As if he would go anywhere else. Don’t worry, Doctor Watson, I have taken care of your shopping for you. You’ll find what you need already in 221B Baker Street at your return. After all, it’s the least I can do for my brother-in-law, don’t you think?”

John smiled and nodded.

They parted amicably after that.

 

When he returned, he found Sherlock in a state of something akin to terror.

“What’s wrong, love?”

At those words, the brunette seemed to come back from whatever nightmarish thoughts he was having.

“I woke up and you weren’t home!” He accused walking to the man and pushing him against the wall. “I thought you had _left me_!”

The smaller man hugged his lover and did his best to calm him down. Explaining he had only intended to go to the shop and buy them some goods but then got waylaid by Mycroft.

The consulting detective turned his gaze to a different kind of worry. “Did he threaten you? What did he say now?!”

“Actually, he kind of give me ‘the talk’ first and the ‘welcome to the family’ later.” The blond allowed a smile to grace his lips to make sure that the other understood everything was alright.

“He… he did?” Now, the brunette sounded almost insecure, and it was so nice John was sorely tempted to kiss him right there and then.

“Yeah.”

Then, Sherlock had walked them to the sofa, and once he had moved them to a comfortable and close position he had made his confession.

“You know… Mycroft and I… we really like each other.”

And then had proceeded to tell him every little secret he had kept from him until then.

That was the moment John really found out how much the consulting detective really loved him.

*****

“So, basically, that’s why Sherlock went berserk on me today.” Greg told him, trying to understand.

“He didn’t go at you that bad, _believe me_ ,” the doctor answered seriously. “But yes, he is worried because you are after his big brother and apparently he must have _something_ for you too or Sherlock wouldn’t have acted up.”

Now that was something he wasn’t expecting to hear.

“He… he does?” he asked John, his voice trembling a little.

The former soldier studied him for a few long moments, assessing him before answering. Apparently, John too cared about the older Holmes.

“I think so,” the blond confirmed at last. “He has kidnapped you more than anyone else, according to Sherlock. He told me that Mycroft usually just does it once with every person that has any role in Sherlock’s life, you and me being the only exceptions. And he really takes care of you. Mycroft was the one that made sure you didn’t lose your badge over the whole Moriarty’s fiasco.”

“I wondered about that,” the yarder confessed.

“Just so you know, Mycroft won’t take the initiative because for all his power he is not all that experienced with relationships. His ring is simply a way to deflect unwanted attention. He will be faithful to you, because when he compromises he does it wholeheartedly, again, according to Sherlock. And, since I’m the one talking to you, I’ve been given the honor of being the one who warns you: _if you hurt him, they won’t find your carcass,_ ” John said with a friendly smile on his face and ice in his eyes. A second later his whole body language changed back to that of the good mannered, soft spoken, dedicated, John H. Watson everyone knew. “Now, go find your man and stop wasting our time here!”

The detective inspector nodded, muttered a ‘thank you, mate’, and ran off. The moment John lost sight of the man he took his phone from his jacket.

**He’s on his way. JW**

Then he took another sip of the beer, asked for the bill, paid, hit send and began the walk home.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is welcomed. Not flames please.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters belong to ACD and BBC network. The story, however, is mine.


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